


Good Girls Go

by FreshBrains



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Community: femslash_kink, F/F, Face-Sitting, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, POV Padma, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a little scary, letting Ginny take over like that, giving Ginny her touch, her air. The bravery courses through Padma again like fire in her veins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Girls Go

**Author's Note:**

> For the Annual Femslash Kink Meme 2015 [prompt](https://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/15813.html?thread=2493893#cmt2493893): Ginny/Padma, breathplay and bondage.

There’s a freedom in being brave. Padma supposes she’s not really the twin who would be the expert on that, with her sister being the Gryffindor of the family, but she also supposes there’s room for plenty of bravery in a Ravenclaw as well.

She also doubts Parvati has ever been at the mercy of an incredibly strong and mischievous redhead who is just as good with her fingers as she is with a wand. In fact, she _knows_ Parvati hasn’t been in such a position, because she’s fairly certain that the second this is over, she’s going to tell Parvati exactly what happened, and she knows her sister would do the same.

“I’m up _here_ , Patil,” Ginny says, voice sharp yet playful. She takes Padma’s chin between thumb and forefinger, gently tugging her face forward to look her straight in the eye from where she’s straddling Padma’s waist. “Am I boring you?”

“Of _course_ not,” Padma insists. She feels her cheeks burning—Ginny has a way of making her feel flushed all over, like she’s been caught with her hand in the sweets jar, but it’s not a bad feeling. It also sends a shiver of arousal down to her belly, making her knees grind together to relieve the untouched ache between her thighs. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh? Tell me.” Ginny smiles and adjusts the faded red and gold striped tie she’s using to bind Padma’s wrists together to the headboard. The bed isn’t really made for their games; Padma’s wrists keep sliding down the cheap metal rung of Ginny’s student-housing bed frame and the entire bed has the habit of clattering against the wall and sending a shower of dust down on both of them. But they’re both in the hectic stages of their lives—Ginny living with three of her Holyhead Harpies teammates and Padma planning her move to Kalale for a historical research trip with her colleagues—so they take what they can get.

“It’s not important,” Padma says.

Ginny raises one eyebrow, the sort of look that tells Padma she’s going to be in for quite the night. “That’s not really for you to say, is it?” She slides down Padma’s waist so her cunt is pressed right against Padma’s—Ginny could come like this, just from rubbing up against Padma’s body with the perfect amount of pressure, but she knows Padma can’t. She needs something inside of her, something filling her, and she won’t get that unless she plays by the rules.

Padma wants to spread her legs, wants Ginny’s fingers inside of her, but if she does so, even a little bit, Ginny will untie Padma’s wrists, get up, and leave them both cold. She’s always been stronger when it comes to these games. “I was thinking about telling Parvati about this,” Padma says, words coming out in a gasp as Ginny rocks their hips together. “About what she would think.”

Ginny laughs, but it isn’t mean—it’s a laugh between friends, a laugh means they’ll all probably talk about it someday. While Padma and Ginny are sleeping together (and, on a good day, might even be _dating_ ), Ginny and Parvati know each other better due to their Gryffindor history. Some people might see weirdness in their relationship, in their openness about what happens behind closed doors, but to Padma, that’s just her and her sister. There’s never been another way. Ginny cocks her head and licks her lips. “And how do you think she’d react?”

Padma feels her face heat further. “She’d be surprised.” Her arms strain as she tugs against her bonds—Ginny’s old Hogwarts tie is frayed enough for her to break loose with the right twist (or the right spell), but one of their rules is that they don’t use magic during their games.

(One time, Padma confided in Ginny’s sister-in-law about that, and Hermione was confused—“That wouldn’t be so hard, would it?” But for Padma and Ginny, magic was all they knew. They grew up with magic as a constant during everyday life. So a lack of magic, especially during those times when their bodies sang for release, was a special, sweet kind of torture).

“She would? Why is that?” Ginny leans down, her hair tickling Padma’s chest and making her squirm. She takes one of Padma’s nipples in her mouth, teasing the swollen brown bud until Padma whines from the ache of it.

“You know how some people say—“ Padma begins, huffing out a breath as Ginny moves to the other nipple, her saliva cooling her Padma’s skin, “that there’s a good twin and an evil twin?”

“I’m familiar,” Ginny says easily, and Padma feels foolish for a moment, thinking about Fred. But Ginny just grins. “I seemed to have two siblings equally good and evil, though.”

“Well, the thing is,” Padma continues, arching her back, trying to get Ginny to sink her teeth into her skin again, “Parvati and I, we were always both the good twins. Never caused a fuss, never broke the rules.” _Except for fighting in a war,_ she thinks, but in the end, that _was_ the good thing. “We were never naughty.”

“I like that word,” Ginny says, eyes going dark as she gently scratches her nails down Padma’s sides, making her squirm. “Are we naughty together, then?”

Padma bites her lips and stares up at Ginny with wide eyes, like she’s challenging her. “We can be so much naughtier, I think.” Her cunt clenches as she prepares herself for what she’ll say next. “Come up here. Let me taste you.”

It’s Ginny’s turn to flush—and she flushes so prettily with her red hair, going bright pink from clavicle to forehead. “Goodness,” she says, hand wandering lazily down to tease at her own clit, a luxury Padma does not have. “You _are_ naughty. I would’ve never guessed.”

“I think I’d like it,” Padma muses. She’s nearly insane with arousal, the inside of her thighs slick with it. The thought of Ginny astride her face, warm cunt on her mouth, is enough to make Padma groan.

“I think I’d like it, too,” Ginny says breathlessly. “But then I’ll have to untie your hands.”

Padma shakes her head—that’s the last thing she wants. “Keep them tied.”

Ginny frowns, though Padma can tell she loves the thought by the way she bites her lip. “Here,” she says, leaning over to grab something off the night table—a gold-plated necklace with a pendant the shape of a Snitch. She places it on Padma’s hand, curling Padma’s fingers around it. “If you want to stop, drop it onto the floor. I’ll hear it, and that will be your safe word.”

“Clever girl,” Padma teases, using the nickname Ginny usually uses for her. “Now, come on. I want it.” She’s consumed by the thought of it, by the sheer fantasy alone—Ginny’s lithe body, her small breasts bouncing above Padma.

“Then I won’t make you wait,” Ginny says. She shimmies her way upwards, hands bracketing Padma’s on the headboard. Padma can _smell_ her, the scent sharper and hotter the closer Ginny gets. “Are you ready?”

If Padma had her hands free, she’d be tugging Ginny down by her thighs, squeezing her tight against her mouth, driving her mad with hard suction right away. “I’m ready.”

Ginny gentles herself down, slow and soft, letting Padma ease into the feeling. “ _Oh_ ,” she gasps, thighs tightening around Padma’s ears.

Padma leaves her mouth open and slack for a moment, her lips soft against Ginny’s vulva, before pressing the flat of her tongue against the slick slit of Ginny’s cunt.

Ginny shudders like Padma sent a shock of electricity through her body. “Oh, _god_ ,” she murmurs, squeezing her eyes shut. “If it’s going to be like this, I’m not going to last long.”

Padma smiles, knowing Ginny can feel the small movement, and traces the seam of Ginny’s cunt with her tongue, teasing her inner lips before giving her clit a firm lick. Ginny is still bracing herself on her knees, the full pressure of her body not yet on Padma’s mouth, and Padma wants to make her legs go weak, wants to feel the heavy slump of her body. She grazes Ginny’s clit with her top teeth—not a bite, just a hint of hard pressure, making Ginny startle.

Ginny moves one hand down to tangle in Padma’s hair, fingers loose, not pulling, like she can’t stand to _not_ be touching Padma everywhere. “More,” she says, her voice a begging wheeze, and Padma complies, pressing both tongue and teeth hard against Ginny’s clit, giving Ginny the perfect place to grind down against. Ginny’s hips move in a stilted rhythm, seeking that perfect spark of pleasure. Padma breathes slowly through her nose, the warm air tickling against the hood of Ginny’s clit. “That’s it, _god_ , that’s it…”

Right as Ginny finds a rhythm, hips settling into a grind, Padma ups the ante. If—if, if, if—her hands were free, she’d be grabbing at Ginny’s ass, leaving nail marks down her pale thighs, pressing two fingers into Ginny’s cunt. But instead, she looks up at Ginny with her big brown eyes and slides her tongue inside Ginny, slow and hot and perfect.

As if Padma flipped a switch, Ginny groans, her body immediately going slack. _Finally_ , she eases her weight onto Padma’s mouth, wanting to be completely filled, wanting _more_. Her vulva presses against Padma’s nose, and for a split second, Padma’s breathing is cut off. It’s not _all_ gone, there’s still a small space for air, but instead of a deep breath, Padma gets mostly the musky scent of Ginny, of her arousal, of her salt-sweat skin.

Ginny makes a noise of alarm and starts to ease off, knees shifting on the bed, but Padma shakes her head, fingers tightening around the necklace. “Are you sure?”

Padma nods, the movement making her tongue slide deeper into Ginny’s cunt. It’s not the sort of penetration that can get Ginny off alone—it’s not deep enough, not firm enough. But as she fucks Ginny with her tongue, slow as honey, Ginny whines and whimpers above her, wriggling like she wants more and less at the same time. Padma takes a deep breath through her nose, and understanding her hint, Ginny leans forward a bit to ride Padma’s face, body moving in fast, jerky strokes.

Padma feels her own orgasm creep up, just from giving Ginny this kind of pleasure. It’s a little scary, letting Ginny take over like that, giving Ginny her touch, her air. The bravery courses through her again like fire in her veins, and she squeezes her legs together. The pressure on her clit combined with the pressure of Ginny on her face makes her come, practically untouched, body rocking in time with Ginny’s.

When Ginny comes, Padma’s breath is cut off one last time, making her vaguely dizzy for only one fuzzy second before Ginny slumps to the side of the bed, careful not to jostle Padma too hard. “Padma?”

“I’m good, I’m fine,” Padma says, voice hoarse from both lack of air and disuse. She floods her lungs with cool air, mouth open, savoring the taste of Ginny on her lips. She can feel Ginny’s wetness cool on her lips and chin—Ginny practically _dripped_ on her, just from sitting on her face, and the thought alone makes Padma ready to come again and again. “Touch me, please.”

Ginny does so without a word, face buried in Padma’s neck as she reaches down and strokes Padma to completion once more, her touch firm but post-orgasm shaky. “Wow,” she sighs into Padma’s skin, “just _wow_.” Padma spreads her legs, giving Ginny more space, and once Ginny presses a finger inside of her, she comes with a long, exhausted groan. The room goes blissfully dark. By the time she opens her eyes, Ginny has untied her hands from the headboard and is gently massaging feeling back into her wrists. She has a warm cloth, too, ready to clean them both up before they sleep.

“Your necklace,” Padma murmurs, unclenching her palm.

Ginny takes it, but then opens the clasp, draping it over Padma’s neck. “Keep it,” she says, eyes soft as she carefully tucks Padma’s thick hair over one shoulder. “Every time I see you wear it, I’ll think of this.”

It’s one of the most tender, romantic things Ginny has ever said to her, and Padma’s heart leaps in her throat as she touches the golden pendant. “Naughty girl,” she murmurs, smiling slyly, and they laugh together until they both drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title a play on the Cobra Starship song "Good Girls Go Bad."


End file.
